Oedipus, as currently presented at the American Repertory Theater, is a
fascinating, multi-layered look into what it means to discover truth
in identity.

At first, we think we are walking into the cozy confines of a
familiar play, but we're in for a surprise. Staged by Artistic
Director Robert Woodruff, Oedipus is cracked open and splayed out
for all to see, to bear witness to the inner workings of "man."

Upon entering the auditorium, a female voice whispers odd questions
such as "What happened? What happened? How did it happen? How could
it happen? It's certain it happened. It is very clear it happened";
"What possessed you to come"; and "Based on but not limited to your
own area, can you tell if the present world is in crisis?" among
others. Our brains start churning, thinking of meanings and answers.

After titillating the ears, the eyes are next. The set is wide
open, concealing nothing behind a curtain except for an onstage
dressing room. The playing area is delineated by a square concrete
foundation with a concrete roof hovering over it an altar with a
blue flame burning within it and with offerings of flowers stands
crooked downstage. Upstage, a mannequin in a suit is dangling from
one of the ceiling corners, held up by his middle, an object neither
dead nor alive.

The actors begin warming up physically and vocally on stage, while
the musical ensemble tunes up on one side of the playing area.
Folding chairs surround the playing area, providing onstage seating
for the actors waiting for their cues to enter the playing area.

Everything is exposed. This isn't a simulacrum of a "Greek" play.
It is a display of human nature unencumbered by time and place.

Oedipus, played by a powerful John Campion, is a brash but fair
king, at wits end because of a plague infecting his kingdom. It
seems Apollo demands the killer of King Laius, Oedupus' predecessor,
be purged from the kingdom in order to restore the its health. If
the killer comes forward, Oedipus will be lenient. If he continues
to hide, he will be banished penniless once discovered.

In order to rout the culprit, Oedipus calls for the wisest man in
the land, the blind prophet Tiresias (played with majesty by Novella
Nelson), to solve the crime. When he exposes Oedipus as the
murderer, he is threatened and accused by Oedipus of being an agent
of Kreon (Michael Potts), brother of Oedipus' wife Jocasta
(Stephanie Roth-Haberle) to usurp the throne.

Logic then comes into play. Step by step, the mystery is solved and
the truth is discovered that Oedipus is indeed the murderer and more
heinously, the husband of his own mother. Jocasta, who clung to the
notion that the gods were wrong, that they are fallible, kills
herself out of shame, Oedipus inflicts his own justice upon himself,
to be banished penniless from Thebes. He blinds himself as an act
of humility. No longer is he allowed to see the beauty of the world
and is forever forced to wander in introspection.

The gods are the driving force behind the play, leaving the mortals
to be punished for human ignorance. It is not a tale of morality,
because morality is not a concern of the gods. So if man is
innocent of the choices he makes and the gods are not punishing man
for his actions, what is the theme of the play?

Campion plays Oedipus with the control of a scientist. He mixes the
qualities of brashness, boldness, concern, violence, and
inquisitiveness to create a multi-faceted king who, in the end,
becomes one of the most sympathetic characters in theater history.
The act of blinding himself, which is a part of the stage design,
adds an inspired touch that allows the audience to remember that
these are players on a stage, they are actors that exist in the
"real" world, just like we do. We will all have to leave the
auditorium and ultimately go home to face ourselves.

Roth-Haberle as Jocasta is probably too young for the role, as she
certainly looks younger than her partner. Yet she manages to evoke
the duality of mind that is the queen. Jocasta is clearly content
with her life until this moment. There is an intimate moment
between the royal couple, binding them even closer to each other and
their crime. Yet Jocasta seems to waver on stage, knowing and yet
denying her intuition, believing in yet doubting the gods. Her
death reinforces the multiplicity of her shame.

Thomas Derrah leads the brilliant chorus, which is still an
incongruity to our sensibilities of theater. They are the
townsfolk, the observers, yet they are set apart by the simple fact
that they sing. But musical director and composer Evan Ziporyn
makes the chorus work by not only using the distance we as a western
audience feel, but by capitalizing on it.

The chorus is operatic, harmonic, and enticing. They sing in Greek
and are choreographed (Saar Magal) to move as a sacred unit, their
actions perhaps a bit too slick for such a raw play. The chorus
seems to exist in a realm not quite on the same plane as the play.
It becomes a separate entity resonating the timelessness of the
play. Even the supertitles are unnecessary as the chorus somehow
seems to naturally evoke the problems of a society gone sour,
essentially personifying the nightmarish quality of fate.

As composer, this is Ziporyn's first dabbling in creating music for
the stage, and what a play to start with. He juxtaposes the grace
and elegance of the chorus with the dissonant mix of electric cello
and keyboard, guitars and percussion. The result is a modern primal
call of woe.

In our Matrix-minded, post 9/11, terrorist-fearing mentality, a man
suspended in the sky can mean many things. This Oedipus becomes
fodder for thought for the audience. In our television, radio,
headphone wearing, car stereo blasting society, it is rare to be
introspective and perhaps considered suspect. The Oracle of Apollo
tells us "Gnothi Seauton"  Know Thyself. Why has the simple yet
complex act of self-examination become so frightening to us?

Oedipus at the American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge through June 13. For performance and ticket information, call 617-547-8300 or visit www.amrep.org.